


Double-Edged Sword

by genovianprince



Series: Coming Home [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Flashbacks, Lotor (Voltron)-centric, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, lotor whump, nothing actually happens with that but it definitely gets close, zarkon is not a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 19:18:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14775647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genovianprince/pseuds/genovianprince
Summary: Allura convinces Lotor to come back to Oriande after relative peace in the Empire is achieved to ask the White Lion for a second chance at accessing their shared ancestry. He remains unconvinced of any worthiness he has, but he can't help but follow her suggestion and bow before the Lion once more, asking for a second chance, and takes an awful walk down memory lane.





	Double-Edged Sword

Lotor stood before Allura, head bowed slightly. “Yes, Princess? What have you summoned me for?” he asked in a soft murmur.  
  
Allura beamed at him. “Oh, come now, Lotor, no need to be so formal,” she said warmly, “Now, please. I know all of us have a bit of a break right now from everything, since you’ve delegated a lot of your tasks and the rebel Galra have quieted. I’d like to take you back to Oriande. I think, surely, if we explain, our ancestors will surely give you a second chance.”  
  
He blinked in surprise, though that was the only outward appearance of any of his conflicting emotions. “Allura, I don’t think —”  
  
“Lotor, _please_ ,” she interrupted, gazing at him imploringly, “Something went wrong. You won’t tell me exactly what happened, but… Considering what I know of you? I think whatever happened was entirely undeserved on your end.”  
  
Lotor stiffened, narrowing his eyes slightly. But as he gazed into Allura’s face, he could read nothing but earnesty in her expression. She… genuinely believed Lotor had deserved better? That the White Lion had judged _wrongly_ ?  
  
“I want you to take part in _our_ heritage,” she said, stepping closer, “Lotor, please. You deserve to take part in all things Altean just as much as I do. You spent so long preserving our culture, researching it, trying to save it. I don’t understand why they rejected you, but they’ll quiznakking listen to me when I say you deserve another shot.”  
  
Lotor’s brows rose. “Well, if you feel so passionately as to curse about it, I can hardly refuse, now can I?” he asked, smothering a laugh. He really didn't want to get on her bad side, and as much as Lotor believed it wouldn’t work for him… He had faith in Allura’s sheer ability to force people to listen to her position, whether they liked it or not. And she would likely have some sort of sway over the ancestors, being the last Princess of Altea.  
  
… It was worth a shot.  
  
Slowly, he nodded, re-affirming his words. Yes, he meant it. He would go with her to Oriande once more and try… Again. Second tries were not something Lotor usually took, but… for Allura, he would.  
  
Allura clapped her hands together excitedly. “Good.” She beamed broadly and suddenly, Lotor found himself a little weak in the knees.  
  
_Quiznak._  
  
\-----

Convincing the other Paladins to let them go was surprisingly easy. Maybe they had sensed that something big was happening. Lotor didn’t quite know and he couldn’t quite bring himself to care about the whys of it, either, only that they had.  
  
He and Allura made their way inside the crumbling ruins once again, the memories of what happened last time crowding Lotor’s thoughts, making his skin crawl — as much as he wanted to be here, as much as he desired to go through with Allura’s suggestion and succeed, he was terrified of rejection, of losing once again his chance to connect with his Altean heritage on a level he desperately craved.  
  
The closer they got to the room, the more jittery Lotor got. He snarled at himself internally for it — he didn’t need to be so damn scared! He already knew what would happen. There would simply be a repeat of last time, Allura would likely apologize for making him go through that again, and Lotor would know. He was never meant to connect with _either_ world he was from. Doomed to be nothing but a half-breed, a traitor to both sides.  
  
He’d never match up or find anyone he could _belong_ with.  
  
But despite all this, he still _hoped._ It was a tiny match in a sea of darkness and doubt, but it was there. He couldn’t snuff it out no matter how he desperately wanted to, because he knew he’d only wind up crushed. But it still pulsed in the back of his mind, reminding Lotor of what he wanted.  
  
Allura sensed his distress and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Lotor. We’ve gotten this far. The Lion will listen. Please, just trust me?” she pleaded.  
  
He turned to look at her and smiled softly. “Well… I suppose, if you could've trusted me to bring you here the first time, I can trust you the second time,” he said, laying a hand over hers. “You sound so… _certain_. That it will go well, I mean. How do you have such… endless optimism?”  
  
“I just…. Have this feeling,” she said, furrowing her brow as she tried to explain. She touched one of Lotor’s glowing marks with her free hand. “This _means_ something. It doesn’t only mean you get a chance to _try_. It has to mean that you _are_ worthy and there was some kind of misunderstanding. I cannot believe anything else.”  
  
Lotor let his eyes slip shut for a moment and he took a deep breath. The matchstick grew into more of a small campfire in him at her words, hope building. “If anyone would know, it would be you, Allura,” he finally said, opening his eyes again. It was quite hard to continue being cynical in the face of her ironclad positivity and his own hope.  
  
She grinned and opened the door to the room, rushing forward to place her hands on the panels before they got crushed. Lotor hurried in after a moment’s hesitation and inhaled sharply as his vision whited out.  
  
Blinking, he found himself before the White Lion once again.  
  
It growled at him, but made no advances to fight him. “Why have you come here again?” it demanded.  
  
Lotor winced at the way the voice reverberated in the room. It felt oppressive, suffocating. It also somehow… felt like it carried weight in his mind, bouncing around and making it hard to think. But he _had_ to do this. He was already here; somehow he’d already elicited a different reaction from the Lion. So he’d take his chance, what little one there was.  
  
“I came to plead for a chance — a second chance, a chance to explain myself, something. Anything.” He spoke quietly, keeping his eyes on the Lion’s. “I may not have been raised Altean, but I am half-Altean. That half is… very important to me. Far more important, I’d say, than the Galra half.”  
  
The Lion stepped closer and Lotor tensed up, but he didn’t reach for any of his weapons, though every instinct screamed at him to do so. It snorted, breath washing over Lotor’s head and bouncing his cowlick, before it sat, tip of its tail thumping on the ground.  
  
In the silence that followed, Lotor was filled with an overwhelming urge to keep talking, so he spoke again. “I do not believe I — deserve it. I was erroneous last time. I did not understand, _could not_ understand, until it was too late. I have no excuses, but an explanation, if you’ll have it, White Lion.”  
  
It bowed its head. “Go on.”  
  
Relieved, Lotor settled in a more comfortable position, cross-legged on the ground. “I don’t know how much you would know about the war. About… Zarkon’s betrayal to Voltron, to King Alfor. Unfortunately, Zarkon is my father. Honerva was my mother. She was the Altean, and it’s actually because of her research that I even could lead Allura here,” he began, smiling slightly, “And Allura is the one who convinced me to come back.”  
  
The Lion tilted its head. “The Last Princess. We know her.” It paused. “Thank you for bringing her back.”  
  
Lotor inclined his head. “Of course. She is Altean. I could not refuse to connect one of the last of us…” He swallowed. “Of the Alteans with the culture.”  
  
He shifted slightly, propping his elbow on his knee and resting his chin on his fist. “Zarkon obliterated all of Altea. Daibazaal was destroyed in a blast trying to seal the rift. And ever since then, he’s been trying to take over the entire universe. I was only a baby when it started to truly snowball. Voltron was gone by the time I was born, Altea… gone. Honerva, my sweet mother, was gone as well, died in childbirth according to Zarkon.”  
  
_Sometimes_ , he thought, unaware of the way his face darkened, _I hate myself for doing that to her. If it’s even the truth._  
  
The White Lion stared implacably at Lotor. “You are keeping something from me. What caused you to make that expression?” it rumbled.  
  
Lotor’s heart nearly froze in his chest. The Lion could _sense_ his bad thoughts? He hesitated a moment, debating the merits of just saying…. _everything_ to the Lion. What could it even hold against him? The only person it could tell was Allura, and it clearly didn’t choose to reveal certain secrets anyway. It might be worth it to just…  
  
Let go.  
  
“I know it’s a ridiculous notion, but… Some days I regret existing. My conception is at least part of what killed Honerva, in the end. The universe lost a brilliant young woman. And in her place recieved me.” His face twisted with more bitter thoughts that he didn’t want to voice, but he’d committed himself, now. “I like to think I’ve been doing good for the universe, but Honerva was probably more brilliant than I could ever be. She could have done so much more…”  
  
He sighed, eyes downcast. “But she probably would have died regardless of my existence. Zarkon is corrupted. I don’t know when the witch came into play, exactly, but I suspect it’s partially her fault. She controls him, in a way. Most of the time, anyway. Sometimes he still does things on his own.”  
  
Lotor gritted his teeth as a certain memory resurfaced and he began to recount it.  
  
\-----  
  
Lotor was seven. He had nannies who cared for him, tended to him more than Zarkon ever did, His father never had the time, they said, he was too busy taking down the rebels of the universe.  
  
At first, Lotor had revered his father. But. There was always a but. One day, he actually managed to see his father outside of the few visits he was granted, aboard the ship. Giggling, he ran towards Zarkon. “Daddy!” he yelled, a happy grin on his face — only for it to be wiped off immediately as Zarkon backhanded Lotor across the cheek, part of his armored glove cutting Lotor just below his eye.  
  
He hit the ground with a pained cry, almost not hearing Zarkon as he demanded of the nanny to know why the little bastard half-breed was bothering him.  
  
And Lotor’s heart, which had been singing just a moment ago, fell into the pit of his stomach.  
  
“Aw, look at him,” one of the commanders sneered, “That cut you gave him even looks like an Altean mark. Shouldn’ta done that if you wanted him to look more normal, eh?”  
  
“Who asked your opinion?” Zarkon snapped, and that was the last thing Lotor remembered before his nanny ushered him away.  
  
\-----  
  
“That was my first indication my father wasn’t all he was cracked up to be,” Lotor explained, “So I began doing my own research… Finding out at such a young age what war really was like… It was terrifying. I had nightmares often of being one of the many kids my age who also found out what war was — on the other end of the ion cannon. So I learned, and I studied, and as I grew, father tried to tutor me in his ways. I went along with it, trying to see if maybe I could plant subtle seeds to change his mind, but they never worked. I learned how to fight in the arena when I was twelve. I had my first bed partner on my fourteenth birthday as a _gift_ from Zarkon.”  
  
He sneered. “I did nothing with the poor girl. I sent her on her way to freedom. And then Zarkon found out and tracked her down to kill her in front of me. And I learned that stopping Zarkon would be much, much harder than all the dystopian books I ever read had made it out to be, with their villains.”  
  
The White Lion continued to stare silently. Lotor had no idea what the Lion was judging him on, what the Lion was weighing in its mind, but at least Lotor knew it would not judge him for whatever emotions decided to make themselves known on this nice little trip down memory lane.  
  
He crossed his arms, but not in an… angry way. Not defiantly. No, he needed to hug himself. To pull some kind of reassurance from his own embrace. His shoulders hunched over himself and he sighed softly.  
  
“At _fourteen_ my father tried to make me a man, whatever that meant. Apparently it meant rape, or finding an outlet for my hormones, or something. I don’t know what he was thinking and I don’t care to know. It was… disgusting.” He sighed again, sounding much more world-weary. “Then a couple years after that, after I tried to ‘rectify’ my behavior so I could still try to get in close, spy on him, figure out where the chinks in his armor were, Zarkon decided to gift me a planet to govern for a year, saying I had earned it. He wanted to see if I could utilize what he’d taught me. Instead, I tried to turn it into a lesson for _him_. It did not go over well.”  
  
\-----  
  
Now Lotor was sixteen. Still young, so young. By Galran standards, one wasn’t even fully grown until twenty-three. So far to go. Still a child. One who’d been through puberty, yes, but a child nonetheless. Probably about the equivalent of an eleven-year-old in Human terms.  
  
Zarkon ordered Lotor to take governing control of a planet he’d just conquered, sending him down with hardly any means for himself. But Lotor had learned different survival techniques from reading as much as he could, so he figured he could at least do okay for himself while he was on the planet if they ran him out. After all, he wouldn’t even have bodyguards, though he’d have some “workers” (slaves) to help him with harvesting the quintessence. A few soldiers to keep the people in line.  
  
He landed on the planet Vulnir, and the monarch was shocked to greet a baby-faced half-Galra instead of some intimidating full-blooded commander.  
  
“You’re Prince Lotor?” Monarch Halir asked, jaw dropping in astonishment.  
  
By this point, Lotor had plenty of experience keeping his emotions in check, but he still was prone to slipping up. He would learn later how well to keep calm and nearly perfect, but for now, he still slipped.  
  
So he winced at the shock and bowed his head slightly in greeting. “Yes. And you are the Monarch Halir of planet Vulnir?”  
  
Halir nodded, returning the slight bow and glancing nervously at the sentries around. “You are… not what I expected.”  
  
Lotor smiled tightly. “Yeah, well. As everyone knows, my father is… franky, a steaming pile of shit. Unfortunately, an _intelligent_ piece of shit.” Lotor knew he was a kid. He knew why the monarch was shocked. And yet, he thought bitterly, why should the monarch be shocked? Zarkon was destroying the entire universe bit by bit. Why _wouldn’t_ he send his own _kid_ out to do dirty work for him? Teach him how to put other aliens in their place? It was disgusting, but it only made sense for Zarkon to do.  
  
Halir made a throaty noise that Lotor interpreted as laughter, glancing nervously at the sentries who were nonreactive. “Well. I, er, suppose I’ll just… Show you to your sleeping quarters? I’m afraid we weren’t ready for… someone _your_ age and size, so we don’t have much for you.”  
  
“No, it’s okay. I brought some clothes and things with me from home. Really, it’s no problem,” he assured quickly, following as Halir made their way to the palace.  
  
Lotor didn’t need to be more of a burden than he already was.  
  
\-----  
  
The White Lion stared as Lotor paused, a soft smile crossing his face. After that first day, the Vulniran people had warmed up to this kid who was changing the way Zarkon ran things. Many of Lotor’s memories of the planet were kind and warm, happy and good. Sure,some of them weren’t ideal, but he’d found such happiness there. Learning the language, the culture, the people, making friends.  
  
“While I was there, I… Ensured that we only harvested quintessence at a replenishable rate. I wanted the planet to thrive. I knew the people and loved them, I cared for them, I wanted things to be better, to prove to my father there were better ways. Surely he had to listen to me after I had proof, right?” Lotor’s tone was filled with sarcasm and he snorted. “The Vulnirans trusted me… I got to participate in their celebrations. Immerse myself into being one of them. It was… wonderful. Honestly, that year was probably one of the happiest in my life. I actually felt like a proper child sometimes. One with responsibilities, sure. But it was perhaps the closest I got to having a real childhood. At one of the celebrations, the fair, I was helping to run the kids arts and crafts table, making items related to the traditions of that particular holiday, and there was this kid, you see, that came in and threw a fit…”  
  
\-----  
  
Lotor smiled brightly as he watched the kids, all around six or seven, all happily working on their projects. Georgia squeezed his shoulder and he beamed up at her.  
  
“You’re doing a pretty good job,” she commented, “I’m proud of you.”  
  
“Thanks, Miss Georgia. Really.” He hugged her and she returned it, making Lotor feel warm, happy, and safe. Ancients, how he wished she’d been his real mom. She was too wonderful.  
  
As he went around checked on everyone to make sure there were no glued heads to tables or anything of the like, another kid entered the tent. Lotor led him to a free spot and let him have at the supplies on the table, starting to make something. But Lotor realized as he watched the kid, the kid was getting frustrated over not being able to make his ornament just right.  
  
And then the kid started knocking other kid’s projects off tables and throwing a tantrum. Georgia scowled.  
  
“That Falrin is nothing but trouble every time he comes here,” she whispered furiously to Lotor.  
  
Lotor pursed his lips. That was something he’d definitely heard before, usually directed at _him_. He stepped over to the child with determination to help him, somehow. Maybe he was hurting like Lotor had his whole life.  
  
“Falrin? Is that your name?” he said softly, squatting to get on eye level with him.  
  
Falrin’s face scrunched up and he nodded. “Yeah. ‘S me.”  
  
“Okay, well. Why don’t we step outside and you can tell me what’s upsetting you? That way nobody gets hurt,” he coaxed.  
  
“You’re just trying to kick me out!” Falrin accused, waving his hands around and nearly slapping Lotor, who rocked back on his heels.  
  
“No, I’m not,” he said patiently, “I just want to talk. Come with me, please? We can fix whatever’s wrong.”  
  
Falrin gave him a suspicious look, but he stood up. “Fine.”  
  
Lotor quirked a brow at the attitude, but led Falrin outside and a little off to the side of the tent to give them some semblance of privacy, kneeling in front of him again.  
  
“What made you so upset?” he asked gently.  
  
Falrin sighed, hugging himself. “I couldn’t do it. The project.”  
  
“Okay. We could have helped you, you know. It’s okay to ask for help when you need it, right?”  
  
Falrin shook his head vigorously. “No.”  
  
“Oh? Why not?”  
  
“Because.”  
  
Lotor snorted. “You need to elaborate, buddy. Seriously.”  
  
“What’s elaborate?” Falrin asked, face scrunching in confusion.  
  
“It means explain. You know, say more. Actually answer my question,” he replied pointedly.  
  
Falrin sighed again, plopping to sit on the ground. Lotor sat cross-legged next to him.  
  
“My _du-pur_ says I gotta be independent. That means not askin’ for help. He said so. Said I gotta be independent cause of… Um. Cause… he says it’s what _his_ _du-pur_ did to him so he’s supposed to make me independent too. But… I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it so I got all upset like _du-pur_ does. He yells and throws things too. Sometimes they hit me, but I’m okay.” Falrin shrugged. “So… He’s scary. But I gotta do it or he gets scarier. And when I couldn’t make the ornament…”  
  
Oh, Lotor’s heart ached for this child. He could empathize with that very well. He patted Falrin’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be scary like him. You can be independent and still need help, and still be kind. Adults really need help all the time!”  
  
“Really?” Falrin asked, eyes wide as he looked up at Lotor.  
  
“Mhm. It’s people like your _du-pur_ , not asking for help, that get themselves into all kinds of worse trouble and make everything harder than it needs to be. Some people are silly like that. But he shouldn’t be throwing things around you, and you shouldn’t throw things either. You know how he hurts you like, and makes you scared? That’s how you make those other kids feel when you do it, too. In fact, even _I_ was scared,” Lotor explained. “Nobody likes getting hurt.”  
  
Falrin’s eyes got wider. “You were scared? But you’re bigger.”  
  
Lotor nodded solemnly. “Yup. I don’t like seeing other people get hurt and it scared me to think that you were going to hurt people, even yourself. But you feel better now that you talked it out, don’t you?”  
  
Falrin nodded. “Yeah. Gee. I should apologize, huh? I didn’t realize…. I made people feel scared, really.”  
  
“Well, I’m sure as long as you apologize, all will be forgiven. But you should probably also help clean up and see if anyone’s things got broken and ask if they’ll let you help put it back together. Maybe you’ll make friends.” Lotor smiled encouragingly and stood up, offering his hand to Falrin to help him up.  
  
Falrin hesitantly took it, allowing Lotor to pull him up and lead him back into the tent. Lotor smiled as the kid apologized and assisted in clean up, helping others with their projects before finally asking for help with his.  
  
“Well, I never. You sure knew what to say to him, huh Lotor?” Georgia asked, smiling as she wrapped her arm around Lotor’s shoulders.  
  
He looked up at her with a smile. “He just needed someone that understood him. By the way… I think his _du-pur_ needs to be evaluated by some kind of…. Child protection services? He’s been hurting Falrin, apparently by flinging objects around whenever he loses his temper, which is often.”  
  
Georgia pursed her lips. “I’ll notify someone immediately. Thank you so much, Lotor. I am glad you are here, truly.”  
  
Lotor smiled.  
  
\-----  
  
“He turned into quite the sweet kid. Of course, he still had problems learning how to adjust, but he enthusiastically and earnestly tried to do better,” Lotor explained, a soft smile on his face. “He was… an amazing child. And he reminded me of myself, except he was able to get away from his _du-pur._ And I was unable to get away from my father.”  
  
He sighed, hugging himself again. “Then, just a few months later, the year was up. Zarkon came to retrieve me. He didn’t like what he saw.”  
  
\-----  
  
Zarkon had controlled his anger until he had Lotor in the ship, the door closed as they lifted off into space. Lotor had beamed, certain he’d shown his father a different way of doing things an that things _would_ change, Zarkon would be better, surely.  
  
The smile slipped off his face as the instant the door shut, Zarkon’s claws descended on the scruff of his neck and dragged him away to the main deck.  
  
“F-Father?” he yelped, doing his best to keep his toes on the ground as Zarkon lifted him up, “Father, what—”  
  
“Shut up, you insufferable, disobedient child!” Zarkon snarled, claws digging in harder. “I asked you to _conquer_ that planet, not _play nice!_ ”  
  
“But father, I—”  
  
“I said _shut up_!” Zarkon threw Lotor down and away from him, near of the control console. “Stand up, worthless thing. Watch your _beloved people_ perish for your mistakes.” He took his place at the console and charged the ion cannon, aiming it planet Vulnir.  
  
Lotor gasped. “No! Father, no, I found a _better way_!” he insisted, launching himself at Zarkon, despite knowing how futile it was, tugging at Zarkon’s arms and doing what he could to stop this.  
  
Zarkon growled and grasped Lotor by his hair, flinging him harshly away. “Your insolence is their punishment, Lotor. Watch. Sentry, force him to watch.”  
  
“No!” Lotor yelled, struggling against the robot, again, futilely. It forced Lotor’s head to face the window. “Father, please, stop this madness!”  
  
“Madness, is it Lotor? You just refuse to see the bigger picture.”  
  
“No, _you do!_ ” Lotor argued, trying desperately not to cry and failing.  
  
Zarkon ignored him. “Prepare to fire!” he commanded, giving the people on board a moment time to brace themselves before he fired the cannon.  
  
The ship shook with the force; the technology hadn’t quite advanced so far yet, or maybe Lotor was just shaking with so much sobbing. He didn’t know. He watched, helpless, as the blast ripped apart the planet, the Vulniran people he’d come to adore like his own, leaving nothing but dust and chunks of dirt behind.  
  
Lotor didn’t hear any of Zarkon’s commands after that as the sentry released him and he collapsed into a sobbing mess. He’d lost so much.  
  
Hours later, he was finally roused from his apathetic state, curled up on the floor, by a sentry nudging him. He wiped at his face and stood, glancing around the room. Zarkon stood there with a — a suitcase?  
  
“My son, for your treasonous actions, I hereby exile you from the Galra Empire,” he said dispassionately.  
  
Lotor froze. “W-What?” he stammered, scrambling to think of any reasons he could bring up to stop this, but the sentry nudged him again —  this time, with its gun, Lotor was startled to realize, so he followed Zarkon towards the escape pods.  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
Lotor wisely kept his mouth shut as he hurried to think of something, _anything_ he could say to stop this, but… He had nothing.  
  
Right up until he was about to be shoved into the pod anyway.  
  
“Father, please. I’ll do anything. Anything,” he pleaded, voice cracking. “Anything, I mean it.”  
  
Zarkon shoved the suitcase into his hands. “Then perish, in the void, and rid me of my greatest disappointment.” He pushed Lotor into the pod and slammed his fist on the launch button, sending his son out and away.  
  
Lotor felt… nothing.  
  
\-----  
  
He sat before the Lion, head bowed, hands loose at his side. He had no more to give. He was wrung out, exhausted, the emotional outpouring almost too much for a man who never shared anything, always locked his feelings away. His face was streaked with tears, but he was dried up now. He felt he had no life left in him, eyes listless as he gazed at the misty white ground.  
  
“So that’s what all this led up to. My survival instincts, things I learned from being Galra, prevented me from thinking about how a true Altean might have reacted. I don’t think I would have gotten it at all. I did not get a chance to be like Allura,” he whispered. “Or exposed to both cultures in a way that meant something. Some things are lost no matter hard I tried to preserve it, saving all of Honerva’s research and hacking databases to get what I could from records. And… _I_ lost.”  
  
He sighed deeply, placing his face in his hands. “While I was out there… Alone for several thousand years… I learned how to fight, learned the ways of different people’s styles to keep myself alive. I made bonds forged in blood with the people I considered my greatest friends, until they were taken from me by my own actions.” He dug his nails into his hairline, focusing on the sharp pain there instead of the one in his heart. “Haggar managed to get her claws in the mind of Narti, one of my generals. I didn’t understand at the time what that connection meant… I was terrified for me, for her. I panicked. I killed her. One of my best friends. And it is my greatest regret. I truly do not deserve your forgiveness, White Lion. I am but a monster, no matter how hard I try to be otherwise. I cannot tell you why Allura believes so much in me. The other three generals, my friends, turned on me after Narti. Which I don’t blame them for. But if the people I was closest to in the whole universe didn’t believe in me, didn’t think I deserved a chance to explain, a chance to redeem myself… Then why does she?”  
  
He laughed bitterly. “I do not know why I am here, except because Allura asked me. I know it will end in nothing but disappointment. My wants matter little in the face of the survival of the universe. All I’ve ever known is clinging to survival by the skin of my teeth with little hope for helping restore balance to the universe. I am doing what I can now that I am Emperor, but… It doesn’t feel like enough. It probably never will be enough.”  
  
Finally, he fell silent.  
  
The White Lion, which had begun pacing as Lotor spoke, padded over with large, soft steps, pressing its nose to Lotor’s hands. “Look at me, little one.”  
  
Lotor looked up, surprised to see such… raw emotion on the Lion’s face. It looked… upset.  
  
“You went through much. I now understand your role here,” it rumbled, “You have already given your life in so many ways. Sacrificed much. Even to talk to me. Always living for other people by refusing to die, to ensure that the universe can live on. That takes a different kind of strength than self-sacrificial death. To survive in the face of insurmountable odds. In the face of such.. Abuse. A loveless life.”  
  
It paused, tail thumping on the ground. “It has been many millennia since we have chosen someone like you. Someone to be the Guardian of Death. Princess Allura is the Guardian of Life. So you will be Death. Both of you to represent the spirit of the universe. Two sides of the same coin, different edges of the same blade. You two complement each other well.”  
  
Lotor blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the Lion. “You mean I…?”  
  
The Lion bowed its head. “Yes. You can access our ancient ways. Be the Princess’ opposite. She will need someone like you to be by her side,” it answered, licking Lotor’s forehead. It tingled, briefly, and Lotor shut his eyes, feeling oddly like he’d been forced to fall asleep.  
  
Lotor gasped, fresh tears streaming down his face as he woke up and turned, looking to see Allura beside him in the new mist, stars and nebulas twinkling all around them. They both laughed in delight and clasped hands, grinning and crying together. _Lotor had done it._ _  
__  
_ “I told you they’d let you in,” Allura said gleefully, pulling them together to hug. “I just knew something was wrong. You deserved to be here.”  
  
Lotor just laughed again, buying his face in her shoulder as he continued to cry. “I did not think I did. The Lion didn’t think I did, either, until I began talking. I don’t even know what I was saying… I just… spoke from the heart. It seemed to work.”  
  
Allura giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Of course it did. And now… You can let yourself be Altean, Lotor. You can help me preserve _our_ culture. And know it all.”  
  
Lotor blushed, touching the spot she kissed lightly. “Yes… I am..”  He laughed slightly. “I am _happy_. It’s been so long since I felt happy. Thank you, Allura. I owe you so much… I am finally home. Welcomed, even.”  
  
She smiled. “No need to owe me, Lotor. It’s what friends do for each other.” She paused, biting her lip. “But… What if I asked… If you wanted to court me? Would that ruin our friendship, or…?”

Lotor smiled, cupping her face in his hands. “Or… I could want to court you,” he whispered, leaning in close and bumping their noses together. “But only if you would truly want someone like me.”  
  
Allura sputtered her lips at him. “Of course I do. I would never trick someone about something like that.” She closed the last of the distance pressing their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss as her eyes slid shut.  
  
And Lotor found himself enjoying the moment. Such a foreign feeling. But one he liked, he realized as he let his own eyes slide shut, just revelling in holding Allura close and kissing gently.  
  
Everything he’d ever endured had been worth it for giving him this moment.


End file.
